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But I push it all aside because she’s here. I’m not alone, and I don’t care if I have to down five painkillers, I’m having her tonight.
thirty-six
Anna
Despite the fact that he’s on crutches, Drew makes short work of getting into his room. A familiar gleam is in his eyes, one that makes me go all hot and fluttery inside. I have my concerns about having sex with him right now. He’s got to be hurting. Inadvertently jostling his leg and injuring him further is the last thing I want to do. Then again, kissing him on the couch has me so worked up, I know that if he touches me all my good intentions will topple like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.
Drew reaches the center of the room before he stops. I cleaned here too, and though I don’t think he minds, part of me still worries. I took over his house with impunity, making myself at home before we’ve even settled things. At the time, I pushed this all aside in favor of assuring his comfort, but he’s here now, seeing what I’ve done.
His golden eyes find mine and they’re smiling, soft and tender. “My mom used to give me fresh sheets when I was sick. It always felt good to slide into a clean bed.” His mouth quirks. “I’m not saying I think of you like my mom, just that...well, I appreciate it.”
“My mom did that too. Maybe it’s a mom thing.”
He holds my gaze. “If you’re ever sick, I promise to change the sheets for you.”
Warmth floods my veins. One small statement, promising a future.
He heads to the bathroom. “I’m dying for a shower. I swear to God, I stink like hospital.”
“Just a little,” I tease, following. I’ve got the room set up for this eventuality.
Drew’s bathroom is gorgeous. Heated floors of a dark, distressed wood, white glass tiles, and a massive walk-in shower encased in frosted-glass panels, the space resembles a luxury spa. A white bowl sink rests on a teak cabinet base. He lays his crutches there as he reaches in to turn on his shower, and water falls from the big rain showerhead. Almost instantly, the air begins to grow sultry and humid.
His eyes glint again as he turns. “Gonna join me, Jones?” He wags his brows like a stage villain before tugging his shirt over his head.
Good God, but I’m never going to get over the splendor that is his chest, or the way those taut muscles move and flow beneath his honeyed skin.
“Not today.” I picture his chest all wet and glistening, running my tongue along the groove in his abdomen, right down the happy trail of dark hair that leads to his thick—
“Spoilsport.” He sighs. “Though I’m guessing we’d end up on our asses when I’m in this condition.”
Blinking rapidly to clear my dirty mind, I reach over and grab the garbage bag and surgical tape I’ve set on a shelf.
“Speaking of...” I hold them up and give his leg a pointed look. While the doctor said Drew could get his cast wet, it will take hours to dry off and won’t be comfortable for him.
“Kinky.” Keeping his eyes on mine, he hooks his thumbs on the waist of his shorts and eases them off, revealing those long, strong legs of his and the weighty cock that has brought me so many hours of pleasure. I swallow hard. I’ve missed this part of him too. He’s already growing thicker, his cock curving as it begins to rise under my stare.
With effort I raise my gaze up to his face, which is currently wearing a smug yet hot expression. I give him a level look. “Behave.”
“What?” He’s all innocence. “I’m taking a shower here, Jones. Gotta get naked to do that.”
“Whatever.” And because I can be a tease too, I kneel before him, my face inches from the heat of his cock. It twitches, the musky scent of him filling my nostrils. I look up at him, my smile sweet. “Lift your leg.”
A pulse visibly beats at the base of his throat as he gazes down at me. Slowly he lifts his cast-covered leg an inch. The garbage bag rustles as I ease it under his foot and begin to pull it over him. Drew’s flat abdomen lifts and falls in a steady, quick cadence.
His leg is so long, the bag barely makes it to the top of the cast. With quick movements, I wrap the ends up with surgical tape, not missing the way his cock is now standing proud and waiting. Longing fills me. I know how he will taste, salty and sweet, how he will feel against my tongue, heavy and firm. Instead, I look into his eyes. “There now, all set.”
Drew swallows audibly, his hips canting just a bit as if he can’t help it.
“You love torturing me, don’t you?” It’s a husky whisper, barely heard over the steady rush of the shower.
I lick my dry lips, noting the way his breath catches as I do. “It’s only fair, you know.”
“Why is that, Jones?” But he knows. I can see it in his eyes, those fuck me eyes that both challenge and make promises.
I cup his ass, that fantastically firm ass that features prominently in so many of my dirty dreams. My finger strokes his little battle axe tattoo, and his nostrils flare in a sharply drawn breath.
“Because,” I say, “you only have to be standing there to torture me.”
